Parfum de la Vie
by delectibal
Summary: A little story about Will trying a new cologne and Hannibal's reaction to the scent. Some heat, not too explicit.


While he had always enjoyed his break-ins to an extent, felt some modicum of exhilaration and satisfaction from treading his way through another person's life, running practiced fingers over things that didn't belong to him and marking them in his own way, Hannibal tried not to make it a habit with his friends. Will was the exception. Will was always the exception.

And so, when Mr. Graham had left his office after one of their many long, almost comfortable conversations, Hannibal sighed and sank back into his chair with a new resolve: Will's cologne had to go. If he had to visit the man's house, break the bottle with the damn ship on it and let the blame fall on one of the dogs, so be it. The way Will had answered his earlier quip about the cologne, how he seemed so resigned to receive it every year for Christmas, only served to fill Hannibal with blind anger. Anything but the finest fragrance would just get in the way of Will's admittedly delectable scent. The sooner they both accepted this, the sooner they could get on with their lives, and the sooner Hannibal could focus not on Will's smell, but on the other details-_important_ details, like what the man usually craved for breakfast (better make that _brunch_) after a long night of lovemaking. Call it a professional curiosity.

* * *

There was a quiet little cosmetics shop in Baltimore known for its fine perfumes and cologne. Hannibal liked it there because there were no pushy, rude salespeople, no overpowering odors and no needless flourishes. The flaxen-haired psychiatrist figured he could stop in before Will came by that evening and get something for the man. He'd already cleared the rest of his appointments for the day. Come to think of it, since meeting Will Graham, the only appointment that ever mattered was his. It was a strange thought, but from their first meeting, Hannibal knew that Will was special. He had counted on his life becoming a little more accommodating for the man. What he hadn't counted on, however, was that Will himself would also be there at the Baltimore shop when he walked up to the brightly lit building.

Having exhausted his search for a decent cologne in his hometown, Will decided he'd expand to Maryland. He'd be there to meet Hannibal in any case, and the shop he was looking for was supposedly very highly recommended. Now, looking at the line of bottles and jars in a plethora of shapes, sizes and colors, he was feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"Why is it that our coffee date had to be here, again?" Alana asked from beside him, taking a sip of her hot, cardboard-sleeved beverage. Will's steamed quietly in his hand, untouched.

"I need some new cologne . . ." Will was beginning to regret bringing her along. As valuable a friend as she was, it didn't seem she had any interest in his endeavor. The dark-haired man sighed and ran his fingers tentatively along the shelf, wondering where on earth the salespeople were hiding. Weren't they supposed to know about these things, be able to look at you and know your . . . _smell palette_, or something?

"Okay . . . Well, all of this stuff is equally expensive, and they probably all have a good fragrance . . . Just pick something. It's all in French, anyway." Alana wrinkled her nose as she peered closely at one of the bottles' labels.

"It has to be the perfect scent." He struggled for the words, not knowing how to explain himself to her. "It has to be just right."

Hannibal stayed in the doorway of the shop, partially hidden by a display. Though he liked to believe he was quite controlled, there was a searing fury threatening to rise up from the pit of his gut, threatening to consume him. Jealousy, the likes of which he'd thought he was above, had taken residence like a hot stone in the very depths of him. It seemed as though Will had taken an interest in changing his cologne, and the reason for such a momentous decision was the very attractive Dr. Bloom. Why else would the man be seeking refuge in her opinion? The thought set Hannibal's teeth on edge.

"Why do you want to change the way you smell _now_, of all times?" questioned Alana. She smiled and gently nudged her friend with her elbow, careful not to spill her coffee. At the light jostling, Will looked at the ground with a barely perceptible blush. Hannibal's demons screamed from within as he watched the interaction.

"Hannibal . . . Dr. Lecter," Will hurriedly corrected himself, "He mentioned that my current scent isn't really . . . working for me." He scratched at the back of his neck, anxiety palpable. "I just figured that . . . that it's time for a change, you know? It wouldn't hurt to . . ." He trailed off at that moment, because he knew instantly when he'd been found out and there'd be no sense in pretending. Alana's smile had grown into a full, brilliant grin, her eyes sparkling with understanding. She was clever and extremely attuned to even the most minuscule change in her friend's mood: came with the job description.

"Oh my God . . . Hannibal didn't like your cologne, so you're changing it."

The lack of response on Will's part only cemented the belief that the current situation was exactly as she'd described. With a renewed sense of purpose, Alana turned back to the shelves. "Well, come on then. Let's get some strips and start testing some of these out. It has to be_ just right_, you know." She winked at him.

Still watching the two from the door, Hannibal felt his demons quiet. His lips quirked up at the corners, well-worn creases appearing around his eyes. Perhaps Dr. Bloom was more of an ally than he had ever realized. He figured that if he left now, unseen, Will would be in capable hands. So, with that in mind, the doctor turned and promptly exited, heading back to his office with a light heart and an even lighter step.

* * *

There was something unfamiliar seeping through the cracks of his door, whispering along the walls and carpet and surrounding him close and hot like a lover. Hannibal looked up from his desk with a sly smirk, detecting that underneath the strange new scent was the fevered sweetness of his favorite patient. He was up from his chair and across the room in an instant. The door, once opened, admitted a fresh wave of wonder, and there he was, the hopelessly damaged Mr. Graham, fidgeting in his trademark way. His clothes looked new-_had Alana also taken him shopping?_-and even the nervousness rolling off him was masked by the fact that he looked and smelled downright delectable.

Hannibal would blame the cologne's effect for his actions: A psychiatrist would have to be entirely under the influence of something to haul his patient inside the office and pin him against the door once it was slammed shut. A psychiatrist's behavior didn't normally include grinding up against said patient and pawing at his clothing like some kind of beast.

Will keened in the back of his throat as he was fully explored, by hands first and then by Hannibal's tongue, which licked a blistering swath from his shoulder to his jaw. Yes, Hannibal thought, he was definitely under the influence.

Will's cologne was buttery and soft, perfectly suited to the earnest, gentle man. There was something spicy there, too, something that belied his quiet demeanor. As Hannibal dragged his mouth up from worshiping Will's neck to his chapped lips, he couldn't help the way his eyes fluttered closed at the sensations drowning him. Will clutched at the man, as lost in their momentum as Hannibal was. He wound his arms around the doctor and heatedly kissed him back.

After a few delicious moments of this, mouths parted from one another with secret, breathless smiles. Will pressed his forehead against Hannibal's, letting out a soft, shaky sigh.

"I changed my . . . my cologne."

The flaxen-haired man in front of him couldn't help his wide, answering grin. "I noticed."


End file.
